Glorified Gruesomeness
by Silverwings Ride
Summary: Glory's past is woven with pain. He's going back to face it—when an unexpected surprise crosses his path. He meets the Flock. But, how does he know Max? And what's his relationship with Iggy? Glory is forced to relive more of his past than he was prepared to.- Yeah, summary sucks, but eh. Rated T for cussing and violence and future, and might get changed.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: One

 **Author's Note: This story takes place around when the Flock is still on the run, but after they take down Itex. Max, Iggy, Fang, and Glory are sixteen, Nudge is thirteen, Gazzy is ten, and Angel is eight (and sweet. I like her better as sweet little baby Angel). They all have all their powers that they get** **throughout the series. Max knows that Ari is her brother and all that. Iggy doesn't know his parents.**

 **And please note that GLORY IS A DUDE. A GUY. MALE. This is important because Glory sounds like a girl's name, but this Glory is a guy. You will find out why he is called Glory soon.**

 **Also this is my first fanfiction! If you don't like, don't read. Or, do read, and tell me what I'm doing wrong. I'm new to fanfiction, so don't freak out when I don't know every little detail about every little thing. Well, that's all that, a thumbs up and a smiley face! ..**

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 **Glory's POV**

I landed a large expanse of dry, packed dirt and carefully tucked my grayish wings in through the slits cut into my long-sleeved t-shirt. I tied my windbreaker around my waist, covering the gun I'd stolen from an Eraser a couple days back. Not like I really needed a gun anyway.

I walked for a few hours until I found a forest and a small clearing within it. Starving, I wandered around for a bit, until I found a squirrel. All I had to do was touch its skin, because a bunch of sickos in a lab called the School once decided it would be great if a child could have wings and fly. "An advance in modern science" if a kid could touch the skin of any living creature and watch its skin melt away, watch it bleed out in agony.

I peeled one of my leather gloves off and snatched the squirrel from the tree with super-human reflexes. It stared up at me, terrified, as I began to move some of its fur over so that my finger touched its bare skin. Fear turned to unbearable pain as its skin and fur melted clean off. Then blood poured and poured and poured out of the small skinless body.

When the blood was gone, I went to take a bite, realizing just in time that I really shouldn't eat it raw. I tore some bark from a tree trunk to put the squirrel on, then quickly made a circle of rocks in the clearing to put leaves and sticks in. I fished a dying lighter out of a stolen backpack and watched it sputter to life. I held it to the leaves in my makeshift fire pit just in time for them to light before the lighter sputtered back out again. I'd have to find a new one soon.

After the squirrel was sufficiently cooked, I bit into the warm, juicy flesh, literally moaning with delight at my first meal in two days. I need a lot of calories, so I was truly surprised I hadn't collapsed from starvation yet. All the better, I guess.

I hunted some more until I had a small feast of rabbits and squirrels. By the time I had devoured all of the small woodland creatures, it was nearly dark. I drank what was left in my plastic water bottle, then went in search of more water, locating a nearby creek.

After filling my water bottle and drinking as much as I needed, I peeled my stained clothes off of my grubby body. I cleaned them the best I could in the flowing water, then draped them over tree branches. Lowering my naked body into the water, I scraped at layers of caked dirt, blood, and sweat.

I leaned back to submerge my grayish hair that matched my feathers into the water and ran my fingers through it, untangling knots and cleaning parts matted by blood and dirt.

Next were my wings. I stayed in my leaned back position and opened them fully on either side of me. Sixteen and a half feet of smoky gray feathers reshuffled in the current, sorting out twigs, leaves, dirt and blood. Then I ran my fingers through my feathers to make sure they were clean.

I got out, flapped my wings a few times to dry them off and squeezed some water out of my hair. Then I pulled an old blanket out of my backpack to cover myself as I gathered my things back up and walked back to my little fire in the clearing.

I refueled the fire with some more sticks and leaves, then hung my clothes on the closest tree branch. (I was not about to let my only set of clothes fall into the fire.) It was only some beat up red running shoes, long blue jeans that were a little baggy, a green long-sleeved t-shirt, a gray windbreaker, and old leather gloves (and of course, underwear, but those will not be described). It wasn't anything special, but it was all I had.

I tried to stay awake long enough for my clothes to dry so I could put them on before hitting the hay, but the warm fire and the soft (well, soft on my standards, which isn't saying much) blanket wrapped around me were just so comfortable, and I j

ust drifted off….

 _One of the Whitecoats—Carter, I think he's called—walks in wearing a white full-body hazard suit. Tiny, three-year-old me looks up at him, terrified. I know he's here for me. None of the other experiments in my room require hazard suits for their handling._

 _One of the little girls I share the cage with grunts in her sleep. Her frizzy black hair haloes her face, and her white wings with black speckles shudder and wrap around her and the other little girl. The girl has light brown hair and her name is Max. I know this because she likes to talk. A lot. She says everything that pops into her head. Which tended to earn her a lot of extra bruises. The other little girl—Pop—talks too, but only to me. No one else._

 _Little me scurries to the back of the cage, behind the girls. Carter clicks the cage open and reaches in. Trying to catch me, he jostles Pop and wakes her up. She sits up and begins silently crying. No three-year-old fit, no tantrum. Sweet, quiet Pop._

 _Carter finally catches me and begins to drag me out. Pop makes a funny noise and grabs for my ankle. Tiny me yanks away from her. I can't kill her. Not my only friend, sweet little Pop._

 _But Pop grabs again, and she doesn't miss this time._

 _I clench my eyes shut and tears stream down my tiny face. It takes me a while to realize that there's no blood on my ankles. Carter has frozen above me. I open my eyes just a crack, and Pop still has a death grip around my ankle. And she's perfectly fine._

 _Carter recovers from his shock and scoops the both of us up._

 _The scene changes, and Pop and I are in a black car driven by Carter in the middle of a forest. A small, unkempt house appears at the base of a hill. The car hits a bump, and I hit my head hard on the side of the crate, making Pop cry again. She didn't usually cry a lot, just when I got really badly hurt. She didn't even cry the time a Whitecoat wanted a blood sample and "accidently" cut a huge gash in her arm. Not even when it got infected because everyone "forgot" to give her medical attention._

 _Since Carter had scooped her up with me, Pop had hugged me tight and refused to let me go. She has her wings wrapped around us and her tiny hand holds mine._

 _The car pulls to a stop in front of the unkempt house and Carter gets out and slams his door. Then, he comes around the car and opens the passenger side door where mine and Pop's crate sits. He lifts us up, and Pop whimpers. I hug her tighter._

 _Carter brings us inside the house. Six sets of Eraser eyes stare at me and Pop, and the scene changes again._

 _This time, Pop and I are seven, and in the same house we'd been in since Carter took us from the School. He hadn't rescued us that night. He'd taken us someplace worse. We were the only experiments there, which meant we were the center of attention at all times. Carter was the only Whitecoat, but he was the worst anyway._

 _He told us a lot more than the other Whitecoats did. But, as we soon learned, knowledge was a curse, not a blessing._

 _Carter walks into mine and Pop's room and sits in front of my crate. "I got the results from the test the other day. You know, the one where I took an X-Ray of your brain? Well, it turns out that your brain is so fucked up, that you won't be compatible for another test I wanted to run on you. So, I guess that while Pop takes the test, I'll give you a lobotomy! Doesn't that sound great? Oh, and I'm out of anesthesia, but I'm sure you can suck it up." He smiles warmly._

 _Suddenly, my crate is jerked sideways, and Pop's pale, dirty face and obsidian black hair is pressed up close to the bars. She pulls on the lock, and bends down to bite it off. When the lock is gone, I spring out of my cage, and see that she's bitten through her lock too. Carter had told us our birthdays, and on Pop's fifth—March 8th, four days after mine—she'd snapped her jaws at an Eraser's reaching hand and bitten three fingers clean off as easily as though they were made of butter._

 _Carter yanks her away from me. I lunge at him. He was only wearing regular clothes and a lab coat. I guess he wasn't expecting this today. I reach for him, but Pop screams at me not to. She says not to stoop to his level. Killing Erasers is one thing—sometimes you'll only survive if they don't—but killing a weaponless Whitecoat makes you almost as bad them. She makes stupid decisions sometimes, but she only says anything if she feels really strongly about it, so I listen to her. She thrusts out her white wings with black speckles, making him drop her, then knocks him off his feet with a kick to the back of his knees. She kicks him and bites a large chunk out of his shoulder._

 _Two Erasers bound into the room. They're gone quickly. One down to a few well-placed bites from Pop, the other from a punch to the nose from me. And, you know, melted skin._

 _We run through the house. Two Erasers guard the front door. One decides it a good idea to punch me in the face and morph at the same time. He gets a good punch in—I feel my nose and maybe cheekbone break—but at the expense of his life as his skin touches mine._

 _I don't know how we learned to fight so good, but I just go with it._

 _I turn to see Pop locked in battle with an Eraser. From the wounds on the Eraser's arms, I can tell that Pop has bitten him, but he won't give up. He extends his claws and rakes them across Pop's belly. I scream angrily, and before I know it, the Eraser is on the floor with no skin._

 _Pop is laying on the floor, hurt really badly. I take off the little tank-top I'm forced to wear and tie it around her middle over her hospital-like gown._

 _I pick her up and run out. As I run, she looks up at my face weakly._

 _"Glory…. Glory, your nose is broke. And your cheek." She reaches up and snaps both bones b_ ones back into place, and her skin melts away. I keep running, I can't stop, and her body deteriorates. Soon I am carrying nothing but air….

* * *

I woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat. I sit up and breathe heavily. That didn't really happen. I didn't kill her. Not there. Not like that.

The only part of that dream that was fiction was Pop's death. Recently, I'd been having lots of dreams in which I'd killed her in some gruesome way.

Which I did, I guess.

I took me a moment to realize where I am. Then I realized that I was naked. I pulled my clothes off the tree and yanked them back on as fast as possible.

I heard a rustling noise to my left, behind some bushes. Too loud to be something small, like a rabbit or a squirrel, a wolf or coyote would be much quieter, (but not too quiet for my super-human bird-kid ears,) so it had to be something like a bear.

But that was when I heard a human voice.

"Angel, I can think for myself, sweetheart." A girl's voice, maybe around my age.

"Mm-kay Max…." A little girl's voice. But, Max. Like the girl I used to share a cage with at the School. She was in my dream. Weird. "There's a creek close by." She giggles. "Fishes think so funny. Can we go get cleaned up?"

I was so busy listening to their conversation that I didn't think to gather my things and get away. Or hide my wings. When a tall girl with light brown, sun-streaked hair stepped through the tall bushes, I froze up. So did she. Then I noticed the brown, speckled limbs behind her—she had wings too.

This was Maximum Ride. I could tell.

A little girl with pure white wings and curly blonde hair steps out behind her. She froze up too.

Max and who I assumed was Angel were followed by a blond boy who looked like the younger girl and had light brown wings, an African-American girl with wild super-curly dark hair and brown tawny wings, and a boy who also looked around my age wearing all black with shoulder-length black hair and raven black wings. They all froze when they saw me too.

Someone who was lagging behind stepped out of the bushes. He paused, then asked, "What's happnin'."

He looked just like me.

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 **Welp, that's that! Stay tuned for... Well, the second chapter, I guess. ... .**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Two

 **I wasn't planning on posting this today, but I'm super exited about having a review and stuff the day after I posted the first chapter, so thanks for that ChachieB, this one's for you.**

 **And, it's shorter then the last one, but you just have to deal with it.**

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 **Glory's POV**

Seriously. Like, the only differences in our appearances were our hair and wings. His hair was strawberry blonde, where mine was light gray, and his wings were a rusty brown, where mine were light gray, like my hair.

He looked mildly annoyed, but no one answered his question for a while, until the blonde boy said, "He looks just like you, Iggy."

The African-American girl elaborated. "He does he really does except you have reddish blondish hair and he has light gray hair and your wings look like rust and his are gray just like his hair," she said in one breath.

Iggy, who appeared to be blind, gasped at the same time as Max. Maybe something finally clicked with her.

"Angel?" she squeaked.

Angel looked horrified. "I—He—He's blank. Just like Jeb, I can't read him."

I didn't get it, but it seemed to make since to them. I didn't ask.

"G-Glory," Max squeaked. "I-I thought you were…. That they killed you and Pop."

I hadn't been close to Max, since she had been scared of me, but she and Pop had been great friends.

Everyone else seemed confused.

"Max! I—I can't tell what you're thinking. It's—it's like everything you're talking about is blocked out of my brain," Angel said. I guessed she was a mind reader or something.

Max ignored her. "Glory, I'm sorry. I was too scared to know then, but what they did was _horrible._ And I just _watched_ that _ass_ -face carry you and my _best_ _friend_ away. I haven't even said a _thing_ about it since and—" she was interrupted by Iggy, my look-alike.

"—What the _hell_ is going on here!" he yelled, silencing everyone.

After a while, Max, looking extremely upset, slowly asked, "Do you remember, when we were three, a little after they messed up Iggy's eyes, and they moved me to a cage in another room?"

Iggy nodded and the guy wearing all black shortly said "Yeah." The three younger kids looked between us four with wide eyes, obviously too young to have been there.

"I shared my cage," Max continued quietly, "with Glory," she nodded towards me, "and a girl named Pop. Pop was my _best_ friend. One day, a Whitecoat came to get Glory, and Pop tried to stop him. He took her too. And I just _sat_ there and _watched_. They never came back."

"And I don't get why you're so upset about that. I'm not," I told her. I really wasn't. No, I didn't like where they took me after that, but it wasn't her fault. I didn't want her to die for me. Or at all, really.

"Yeah, Max, don't be upset," said the little blonde boy.

Max whirled on the others.

" _Yeah_ , I'm gonna be _upset_! Pop was my best _friend_! And I just let her and Glory be carried away! You just don't get it! What—What if I'd done that to any of _you_!"

"But you didn't, Max. You're okay. We're okay," Iggy reassured her, moving closer to hug her. She half-heartedly punched him in the chest and shoved him away from her. She turned to face me, but when she saw me she clenched her eyes shut tight.

"What—" her voice cracked, she swallowed hard and tried again. "What happened to Pop? Where is she?" She opened her eyes to see my reaction to her question. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears.

I opened my mouth to tell her, but I couldn't force the words out. I couldn't tell her that Pop was dead. That it was _my fault that she's dead._ Painfully aware of the five pairs of eyes set on me—Max had taken sudden interest in my shoes—I shook my head and looked away.

Max collapsed to the ground, looking guilty and shocked. All of the other kids looked scared and confused, except for the guy wearing all black, who sat down next to Max to whisper in her ear. I could tell she didn't do this kind of thing often. Even when we were three, she was as tough as nails, like Pop.

"How?" she asked so quietly that I could barely hear her.

I shook my head again. I couldn't say it, even if I'd wanted her to know.

She looked miserable, and the tall one whispered to her again.

"No, it is _not_ , Fang!" She shoved him away, stood up and flew away, not even bothering to take a running start. She faltered a bit at first, but then she took on an impossibly fast speed and was out of sight.

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 **So, how you like it so far, eh? Good, bad, needs work, what? Tell me. Review, please. That's all…. For now.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Three

 **Hello, hello, wonderful people! I would like to thank ChachieB and CosmicKitten16 for reviews! Enjoy, wonderful people!**

 **Disclaimer: Crap, I've been forgetting these! But, that does not mean that I'm an aging man who writes murder mysteries! I'm just a scatter-brained idiot girl! Haha, uhhmmm...**

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Glory's POV

The emo-looking boy—Fang (haha, how perfect)—stood up and ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair.

We all stood there in silence, the three younger kids looking really worried, Iggy looking… Exasperated, and Fang looking extremely impassive.

After a while, Iggy broke the silence. "She'll be back, she always is…. So, you—" he pointed directly at me, which was kind of creepy for a blind person—"Look like me. Angel can't read your mind or any thoughts concerning you. Max knows you, got upset about Mystery Girl, and flew off. I—" he pointed to himself—"am Iggy." He pointed to Fang. "Fang." He continued to point to each of them and introduce them. (Angel—blonde girl. Gazzy, short for The Gasman— blonde boy. Nudge— African-American girl with super-curly hair.) "And we, are the Flock."

"Wow, Ig, you sure know how to state the obvious," Gazzy said.

"You're right, I do have a knack for stating the obvious. Now, how about I state that you ha—" Iggy was cut short by Gazzy's hand clamping over his mouth. Gazzy looked at the rest of us frantically, face as red as a beet.

Angel gasped. "Oh my _gosh_ , Gazzy!"

"Say a word to anybody and I'll—"

"Shut up. Both of you," Iggy said loudly. "More important birds to shoot at the moment."

Angel glared, but it was lost on him. "That's not funny."

Iggy shrugged and grinned. Closer now, I could see thin, barely visible white scars mapping his milky blue irises, uninterrupted by pupils.

"Well, while we wait for Max, how about Pop-Tarts?"

The Flock gave their various agreements and sat down. I, having no idea what the heck a 'Pop-Tart' is, was not disappointed. Iggy retrieved several shiny foil package sporting the word 'Pop-Tart' in blue letters. We all sat down around him.

"Let's see, we got," he sniffed one, "Blueberry. Who wants blueberry?"

"Oooh, I want blueberry it's my faaaavorite kind except for brown sugar cinnamon we got any of that if we do have any I want it!" Nudge said all this extremely fast and in one breath. That girl is… Wow, just, wow.

Iggy picked up another Pop-Tart and sniffed it. "Here, ya go, Nudge. Brown sugar cinnamon, your faaaaavorite." He drew the 'favorite' out the same way Nudge had.

I watched with interest as they passed out Pop-Tarts and ripped open the packages. Pop-Tarts turned out to be rectangle pastry type thing with frosting and flavored fillings.

Iggy held one out to me. "Want one?"

"I—no, no thank you," I stuttered. I wasn't about to take their food, especially because they probably didn't have much. But my stomach growled in protest, and he tossed it. I stared at it where it lay in front of me. I picked it up and ripped the package. The pastry was blue with pink swirls.

They told me more about themselves while we ate—for example, they call themselves the Flock, and Angel and Gazzy are the only blood-related siblings. I didn't say much of anything about myself, but nobody minded that much, especially the extremely talkitive Nudge. When we were done we all just sat in rather awkward silence.

"Gazzy, get my water bottle and fill it up at the creek," Angel ordered in an innocent voice.

Gazzy crossed his arms over his chest. "Why should I? Why can't you do it yourself?"

"Because," Angel smiled sweetly at him. "I know that you li—"

"Okay, okay, okay!" Gazzy yelled over his sister. He scowled and snatched an almost-empty plastic water bottle out of a pale blue backpack and stomped off toward the creek.

Once Gazzy disappeared, Nudge started talking. "Angel what is it ooh does he secretly like to wear make-up or something please tell me what it is please please I have to know I—"

"Nudge!" Angel looked annoyed. "Stop. I'm not telling you."

Nudge looked like she was about to say something, but was cut off by the thud of feet hitting the ground hard. Max sat down, purposefully ignoring us. We were all quiet. Gazzy walked through the trees, saw Max, and was quiet as well. He threw the now full water bottle at Angel and sat down. Iggy threw a Pop-Tart at Max.

It was actually kind of scary, how quiet it was. Even the birds were on mute.

Until an acid green cloud surrounded Gazzy, and a terrible, indescribable smell surrounded us. Gazzy paled and stared at Max, horrified.

"I—Max—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I—"

"Well that's a first," Iggy cut in. "Gazzy being sorry for a fart."

I didn't say it out loud, but in my mind, I practically screamed, That was a fart! They weren't lying when they said he had terrible farts.

Max ignored Iggy and turned to Gazzy. "Gaz, it's okay, I'm sorry. Everyone, I am, I just…" She let her sentence hang.

"It's okay, Max," Angel said, and moved to hug her. Nudge and the Gasman joined, followed by Iggy, who was dragging Fang with him. It was sweet. I just sat there awkwardly.

When their group-hug ended, we all got back to talking and joking, and for the first time in four years, since Pop died, I felt like I belonged.

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 **Okay, this one sucks a bit, but I've been operating off little to no sleep soooo. And don't freak out about Angel's attitude. I said she was sweet, and she is, it's just sibling conflict. I had something else to say, but I forgot... So, uh, yeah...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Four**

 **Author's Note: I am sooooo sorry that I haven't been updating! I've just been really busy, and I haven't had the time to write. I've been sick and had major writer's block, but don't worry, I'll make up for this.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, or any of it's characters. That honor belongs to James Patterson.**

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We just hung out in the same place all day, until the sun started to go down, and my sensitive hearing picked up on some growling stomachs. I was starting to get hungry too.

"I'll be back," I announced. I stood up and began to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Angel asked sweetly.

I turned around and smiled at her. She was so sweet and cute, and I just fell instantly in love with her as soon as I had really met her. "Just hunting. I know we're all hungry" I turned back around and continued walking.

A hand clapped over my shoulder. It didn't touch my skin, so I made sure not to move, to make sure it didn't.

"I'm coming with you." It was Fang.

"I—uh—no, I can do it." I didn't really want them to know about, well, you know what, because I didn't want them to freak out and ditch me or something. I just didn't want to ruin my new friendship.

"I'm coming," he insisted, but Max leaped into action and grabbed his arms and yanked him back. He didn't resist, but when I turned to look at them, he had a weird look on his face.

"Fang, just let him. He can do it." Max looked relieved that Fang was safe, but I felt really guilty. I didn't want to kill him, no matter how obvious it was that he didn't like me. Just like with Max, thirteen years ago.

I turned back around and kept walking. As soon as they thought I was out of earshot—which was pretty far away—Fang said, with so much hate in his voice that I imagined fire shooting out of his ears, "Why do you think you can trust him?"

"I—Fang, this isn't fair—I _know_ him." Max sounded taken aback.

"No, Max, you don't. You knew him when you were three, and from what I'm getting, you didn't even _like_ him!"

That was the longest speech I'd heard from him so far.

"But you can trust him. Trust me. I know what I'm doing," Max's voice seemed choked with tears, and I couldn't possibly imagine that that happened a lot.

But there was no answer, only the familiar sound of wings beating and feet leaving the ground.

* * *

After my hunt, I returned to the Flock. I'd taken off my windbreaker and was using it as a basket for the animals. It was dark by then, and the a Flock had built a fire in the ashes of my old one while I was gone. Fang still wasn't back.

I had already washed the bodies, to most of the Flock's amazement, except Max and Nudge.

" _Grooooosssss_! You put them in your _jacket_? That's so _gross_ ," Nudge squealed.

"I'll wash it, don't worry, Nudge," I said playfully. She stuck out her tongue at me.

Iggy insisted on cooking the animals, and wouldn't even let me touch them after that. We talked, but it was all tense and awkward. Turns out, despite the fact that he doesn't talk a lot, Fang has a huge affect on the conversation.

When Iggy was done, he distributed the food equally among us. He put Fang's share on his backpack, (which was black,) but not before making a face and licking a piece. Nudge made a face at this, but didn't say anything.

We all dug in. Let's just say we all eat like animals. Which, I guess, we _are_ animals.

Iggy cooked it just right. I always either cook it too long or not long enough, and somehow, someway, this _blind_ kid could cook better than me. I inwardly rolled my eyes at myself.

Once we were done, we sat in awkward silence.

"Yeah, Iggy, I wonder too. Why _do_ you look alike," Angel said out of nowhere. Earlier today, I'd found out for sure that Angel can read minds. Which, I must say, is a bit creepy.

"Definitely a conversation that must be had." Max sighed.

"Could one of us be, like, a clone, or something?" Iggy asked, facing Max. I was caught off guard—clones were something out of a Star Wars movie, not reality.

"Well, your wings are different colors, hair too," Gazzy replied. "Max II looked exactly like Max."

"Then I have no idea," Max said. Everyone was quiet after that, but not in an awkward way, more like everyone was thinking.

I noticed Angel smiling very brightly, then Nudge did too. "Could it, Angel? That would be _waaaay_ too cool!" Nudge turned to us, grinning ear to ear. "Angel thought that maybe you guys are twins, which would be really cool, because we don't know our parents, except Max."

Now, the silence was stunned silence. Iggy and I both turned to look at each other. It was possible, I guessed, though far-fetched.

I couldn't help but think of the Weasley twins from Harry Potter, especially with Iggy's reddish hair. If you're wondering how I know about all these movies, it's because Pop loved movies. So whenever we could, we would watch them, whether by sneaking into movie theatres, or watching on tv's at homeless shelters, or whatever. So, yeah.

"I—" I began, but was cut off by a dark-clothed body landing on it's feet between us. Fang sat down and pulled his backpack closer to him. The rest of us—I was thrilled that I could say _us_ — watched him eat in silence.

Then the laughter started. Gazzy first, laughing like a maniac. Then Angel started giggling. Iggy laughed, and I did too. It was the food. Iggy had licked some of Fang's food. Max looked like she was trying not to laugh, but the ridiculousness of it all pulled the laughs out of her. Fang was looking at us all like we had suddenly sprouted horns. That made us laugh even harder. Before I knew it, I couldn't breathe and three were tears in my eyes. I glanced at Iggy at the same time he looked at me, and we laughed harder. It was just so ridiculous, but it was _us_.

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 **So, I hope you like. Next chapter coming out ASAP. Or, as soon as I write it. Also, "ridiculousness" is a long word, and hard AF to spell. Fun Fact: I know someone whose initials are AF. Please review, please. And follow and fav if you haven't already and you're reading the fourth chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Five

 **Author's Note: Sorry it's so late, but I'm working really hard to catch up.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, or any of it's character's. Those are JP's. I own OCs. (That rhymes, to my child-like amusement.)**

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By the time we were all finished laughing our heads off, Fang was glaring at us all irritably. "What?" He demanded angrily.

"Ig—" Nudge started, but was cut off by Iggy.

"—Nothing, nothing, just enjoy your meal." He attempted a sweet smile, but it looked more devilish to me.

Fang sighed. "Iggy, I swear to God, I will kill you. I know where you sleep at night."

"Doesn't help much, I'm on first watch tonight." Iggy stuck his tongue out. The rest of us couldn't help but laugh a little bit.

Fang opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by Angel's yawn.

"Maybe it is time for bed. Angel's tired, and we all need to sleep," Max said as she smoothed down the blonde girl's hair.

"I'm not tired," Angel protested around another yawn.

"I bet you're not," Max said, kissing the blonde girl's forehead. "But we stayed up late last night after that attack, and we need rest."

Angel pouted a bit, but said okay.

I smiled. It was cool, seeing Max be all motherly. I mean, who knew someone with such a tough life could be so soft and nice? I'm certainly not.

So we all curled up around the fire. Iggy sat with his legs crossed, head cocked to listen for signs of danger, at least I guessed. Max laid down, but elevated herself on her elbows, obviously thinking. I pretended to be asleep, more for the younger kids' benefit than mine. Fang was sitting up and staring at me, not bothering with being subtle.

After an hour or two, when the younger kids were asleep, Fang stood up. He walked over to Max and nudged her gently with his foot. "I need to talk to you," was all he said before walking away into the woods, in the direction of the creek. Max grumbled under her breath, but got up to follow him.

I sat up and sighed. I could already hear the sounds of those two fighting. This was all my fault. I had hung out with them for a day, and was already ruining their friendships. I shouldn't have stayed, shouldn't have talked and been so friendly. I should have just left—

"They do that a lot." Iggy's voice brought me out of my thoughts. "Fight, I mean. It's not your fault. Fang pretty much just likes to fight, and Max is an easy target for him because she won't leave him."

"Are they dating or something?" I asked.

"Kind of. I don't even know at this point."

We just let that hang for a moment before Iggy changed the subject.

"So… Do you think it's possible that we're related?"

"I don't know. Those sickos are capable of anything." Really.

"Yeah, no kidding." He sighed.

"Is that how, uh..." I began awkwardly, then trailed off. I didn't know how to ask, because I didn't want to offend him or anything.

"I went blind?" He finished for me. "Yeah." He got a far-off look on his face as he said, not a little bitterly, "When I was little, like three or four, they wanted to enhance my night-vision, or some shit like that. When they were done, they put bandages over my eyes and told me that if I took it off, I became an Eraser chew toy. A few days later, they took it off, but I still couldn't see, and never could again."

When he finished his story, we sat in heavy silence. After a minute or two, he shook his head, as if to clear it, and turned towards me.

"But the past is past, so…. Anyway, you need to get some sleep. We've all had a shitty day." He smiled, and I gave a weak smile in return. He really wasn't kidding when he said we'd had a shitty day. I leaned back and drew my blanket over me, falling into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

I woke up before the others, and just sat for a moment before realizing that I hadn't had a bad dream for the first time in weeks. I couldn't even help the sigh of relief that escaped my lips.

I looked around me. Everyone was asleep except Fang, who had the last watch. Which would make it easier. I had already made up my mind, late last night. I was doing it.

I rolled up my blanket and stuffed it into my backpack. I put my windbreaker in there too. Fang watched all this warily, but didn't say a thing. He had probably already realized what was happening.

I stood up, and took in the scene below me. The Flock sleeping peacefully. Most likely the last image I would ever have of them. I shook my head to clear it, and oh-so-suavely immediately stepped on a stick that crunched loudly under my foot.

Max shot bolt upright with a gasp. She jumped up into a fighting stance, saw me, relaxed, realized what I was doing, and tensed again.

"Glory, what are you doing?" The hurt in her voice was clear. I was caught.

"I'm, uh— um," I started awkwardly. "I gotta go, Max. Maybe, um, I'll see you again sometime."

"Glory?"

 _Great, now everyone's getting up_ , I thought as I looked down into Angel's innocent blue eyes and noticed that Iggy was sitting up.

"Angel, I'm leaving. Me being with you only puts you in more danger," I told her sadly.

"We're in danger every day, and you with us makes us stronger," Max said fiercely, loud enough to wake the others.

"No, Max, it doesn't. It makes all of us vulnerable," I said back a little louder, getting defensive.

"He's right, Max," Fang tried softly.

"What do you know about this Fang?! You don't even _like_ him, and you don't know him at _all_!"

Iggy opened his mouth to say something, probably to calm the heated argument, but was cut off.

Because then the Erasers came.

* * *

 **Yeah, this one is super cheesy and corny, but I had to try to write it really quick, because I'm trying to get back on schedule and write ahead so I don't get so behind. I've had writer's block, and I've been working on two million other stories, and my own independent novels that I'm trying to write. But don't worry, I'm working really hard, and I'm picking this back up. I'm determined to finish this.**


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